


Celebration

by dizzy



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: In a sense, x-files au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 08:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14733611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: FBI agents Dan and Phil get assigned a case involving a Florida town where people are going missing.(Based loosely after the season six X-Files episodes "Arcadia.")





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the phandom reverse bang! Check out [the fantastic art by jumigs](https://jumigs.tumblr.com/post/173519036592/this-is-one-of-my-works-for-the-2018-phandom) that combines two things I love: Dan and Phil, and The X-Files.

  
_there's a bake sell at the schoolhouse_  
_and they're selling innocence_  
_they're keeping out the deviants_  
_to protect the residents_  
_of[Celebration](https://youtu.be/dAKlViGJGMs)... Celebration, Florida_

  


The sheets underneath Dan are rumpled and they smell good, warm and spicy like two warm bodies had a nice roll in them and then slept hard. 

"Don't wanna get up," he mumbles into his pillow. 

The fingers that slip under the blanket and curl around his hip feel cool to the touch. "You've got to. Come on. We're late." 

"We're always late," Dan says, rolling over. He blinks his eyes a couple of times to clear the fog away. "Wait, what are we late for?" 

"Meeting," Phil says. "There was an email. You didn't check your emails, did you?" 

"Don't need to," Dan says, stifling a yawn. He flops one hand out from under the blanket and feels around for his phone. "That's what I've got you for." 

"Idiot," Phil says fondly. The hand on his hip squeezes as Dan turns onto his side and unlocks his phone, tapping on the email app. "Ten more minutes, and you have to get up. I'll see you at the office." 

"Yeah," Dan says. "See you there." 

* 

Dan shows up with two minutes to spare, looking impeccable and holding two coffee cups. 

"Not late," he says smugly, handing one to Phil. 

"You're lucky, Howell," Phil says. "You're so lucky." 

"I'm not lucky, I'm good." Dan takes a leisurely sip from his cup - not actually coffee for him, but a lovely herbal tea - and looks for all the world like he's been casually hanging around waiting for just as long as Phil has when the door opens. 

"Boys." Their assistant director opens the doors. Her eyes sweep over them and Dan has that weird feeling he always has when they meet with her, like he's being sized up and dismissed in the space of a heartbeat. "Got a nice road trip for you." 

Phil is frowning down at the folder he's already opened, so Dan decides he might as well take a look himself. 

Missing persons reports - six of them, two per page. 

Hart, Hannah and Mielniczenko, Ella. Thirty-one and twenty-eight, respectively. 

Dunn, Gaby and Ford, Ellen. Twenty-nine and twenty-six, respectively. 

Graceffa, Joey and Preda, Daniel. Twenty-six and twenty-five, respectively. 

"So they're all mid twenties to late thirties, and they're all..." Dan trails off, looking up. 

"LGBTQ+ identifying individuals," she says. "In same-sex relationships."

"Hate crimes?" Phil asks.

"Right now that's the going theory," Hart says. "Two lesbian couples and one pair of newlywed husbands, all disappeared without a trace within a month of moving in. Local police haven't come up with anything. No sign of foul play, no histories of domestic violence between any of the couples. Two of the couples were discovered missing when they failed to show up to work the following week, one was reported missing by family. Neighbors claim they didn't see anything, they didn't hear anything, and that they assumed the missing couples just decided to move on." 

Dan flips through all the photographs, all the smiling happy faces. His mind is already filing things away, dates and details and comparisons, similarities and differences. "Of course they didn't," he mutters. "So you're sending us to Florida?" 

"Yes," Hart says, but there's a pause to her voice that tells Dan and Phil both to wait out the silence and hear what else she has to say. "Undercover." 

"Undercover?" 

"Yes." She looks back and forth between them. "You're going undercover as the sort of couple that fits the same profile as the three missing ones." 

"Oh," Phil says. "Oh." 

"Right." Dan glances over at Phil, who seems to be properly bricking it. "So we're going undercover as..." 

"A gay couple." She glances back and forth between them. "Will that be an issue?" 

Phil speaks first, surprising both of them. "No," he says. "That's fine." 

"Make your own arrangements. You're meeting with the local PD tomorrow at 1400 and they'll sort out getting you moved in." She pauses.

“Will that be all?” Phil asks. 

She shakes her head, glancing down at the paper in front of her. “There’s just one other thing…” 

* 

Their basement office is a dark, dank respite from the stuffiness of the entire rest of the building. They don't talk at all until the door is shut behind them. 

"Well," Dan says. 

He looks at Phil, trying to gauge how Phil is actually feeling. It's almost impossible, and Dan can't really explain how much it tugs unpleasantly at something inside him to get that blank look from Phil when usually he's the one who always knows what Phil is thinking. 

"It's just weird," Phil finally says. "Do you think she gave us this because she knows?" 

"Knows what?" Dan asks. "That we're both - you know." 

He gestures with a hand. It's not that they think their office is bugged. It's just... precautions. Luckily, non-verbal communication happens to be a strength of theirs.

Phil shrugs. "Or." 

"No," Dan says, voice more confident than he actually feels. Somehow it's more important to reassure Phil than it is to assess where he's at with this in his own head. 

"Okay," Phil says, after another long pause. "I'll book our flights."

*

"I fucking hate local police," Dan says under his breath. 

"Behave," Phil says, reaching out and slapping him on the arm. 

Dan can't help that this local police department - along with almost every one of them he's ever had the misfortune of working with - seems to be comprised of mildly uncomfortable officers who neither trust nor entirely understand exactly what an FBI liaison is all about. 

"And you're... what again, exactly?" One particularly dense man in his mid-fifties says, squinting at them with cartoonish ignorance. "Going undercover as queers?"

"You've got murders," Phil supplies helpful. "That you can't solve. We're going to solve them." 

Dan's very glad Phil stepped in and answered. He's very sure that whatever would have come out of his own mouth wouldn't have been nearly so polite. 

"By going undercover - you're not even from around here. You've got those accents..." 

"We're not meant to be from around here," Dan says. He's tired of explaining this over and over. "We're going undercover. As 'queers' who just moved into town." 

"Queers from... Australia?" The man guesses. "Are those your real voices?" 

"England, actually," Phil says. "And yes." 

This is not the first time they've gotten this response, either. Apparently international travel and dual citizenship are just beyond the capacity for some to grasp. 

The phone beside the officer rings. He picks up, grunts out a few responses, then puts it back down. "Got you a moving van full of supplies." 

"Great," Dan says, shooting to his feet. "We'll take it from here." 

*

Dan's dreaming of England. 

He dreams of England a lot; rainy weather and the smell of grass in his grandma's backyard and the booming voice of the radio announcer when he'd be in the car with his grandpa. It all happens in bits and pieces that fade as soon as he starts to wake up, but it leaves him with a vaguely hollow feeling in his chest. 

He should call his grandma later. Maybe try and figure out a time to visit once this case is over. 

Maybe Phil can try to get the time off as well. His grandma's never met Phil... 

But that's a pipe dream. Vacation time together, an actual trip together. Too obvious, too much of a giveaway. 

"What's that sourpuss expression for?" Phil asks. 

Dan rolls over in bed. Phil's sitting up, no shirt on but his laptop open. He's so close that if Dan moved a couple inches over he could rest his head on Phil's lap. They always book hotels like this, two rooms with one double bed each, so no one at the bureau is suspicious and the second one always goes unused. 

"Weird dreams," Dan says, because he doesn't know how to explain that they were good dreams that made him feel sad. "Looking over case stuff?" 

"Yeah." Phil's always better at that than Dan. He's always the one doing the heavy reading, pouring over the boring bits. It works, as a system, because he's got an exceptional instinct for what Dan needs to know in order for Dan to do his part of this. "I need a break, though. And a coffee." 

"Does this hotel have breakfast?" Dan asks. 

"Maybe," Phil says. "But I think you've slept past it. We probably have time to find somewhere still serving breakfast if we leave soon, though. We can't pick up the moving van until noon." 

The 'moving van' is a rented vehicle that will be full of boxes, some of which contain absolutely nothing, some of which contain basic supplies they'll actually need for the house for the duration of time they're staying in it, and some of which are forensics equipment they'll use to collect samples and send them out to the nearest lab. 

"You just want to find pancakes," Dan says. 

"Hey," Phil says. "I like pancakes. Will you make me pancakes when we're married?" 

Dan blames the sudden thump of his heart on the fact that he's still half asleep and forgot that they're pretending to be married for this case. "No, I'll only make myself pancakes," he says, hoping it covers for his momentary shock. "But by Florida state law they'll be half yours." 

Phil laughs, that deep warm _real_ laugh that makes Dan bury his face back in his pillow to hide his smile. 

* 

This arrangement they have, it works. 

It works so well. Six years now - and Dan still remembers the first time he met Phil, the day they were introduced together as partners. He remembers being scared out of his mind because he'd been fresh out of the academy, he remembers how Phil put him at ease almost right away. 

He remembers how he'd been half in love before the first week was out and how a month into their partnership he'd began to understand that it wasn't entirely in his head. 

Six years of hiding in plain sight, because the bureau wouldn't keep them as partners if they were together. The bureau might not even keep them at all. There's no open discrimination and Dan particularly has never been overly concerned with hiding who he is, but professionalism dictates a certain level of distance between his job and the rest of his life. Two queer agents, even if they claimed they weren't together, would raise the kind of eyebrows no one wants raised. 

So they live their lives inseparably, stepping with fluid movements between the life where they are everything to each other and the one where the job is expected to be everything to both of them. 

* 

"Well," Dan says, standing in 'their' new front yard. "This is creepy as fuck." 

"She did warn us,” Phil reminds him. "I don't mind it, actually." 

"It's a giant fucking Mickey Mouse," Dan says. "Hanging on our door." 

"It's not as bad as the topiaries," Phil says. "I'm going to have nightmares about that Goofy one." 

Dan glances over at him. "We're here to play bait for a weird ass Disney obsessed planned community that seems to like killing gay people, and Goofy's what will give you nightmares?" 

"The people probably just kill you." Phil shrugs. "Goofy looks like he'd eat your soul."

Dan glances over at Phil, exasperated and so, so fond. “Weirdo.” 

*

"I hate moving when I actually have to do it," Phil says, wiping sweat off his brow. They've been carting boxes back and forth for hardly half an hour now but it barely looks as though they've made a dent. "Why couldn't they have sent some movers for us?" 

"Because they don't want anyone getting nosy and finding forensic gloves and swabs?" Dan suggests. Their voices are both low, speaking to not be overheard. 

Which is fortunate, since Dan realizes that the couple he’s been tracking as they walked up the street aren’t out for an evening stroll but are headed directly for them. 

“Four o’clock,” he whispers. Phil’s head swivels in completely the wrong direction. “Your other four o’clock.” 

“Oh-” Phil turns all the way around, then raises a hand in a wave. “Hi there!” 

"We're the welcome wagon!" A tiny woman says, thrusting an oversized basket at them. Phil takes it, clearly not expecting it to be as heavy as it is. "I'm Jessie. I like to bake." 

“Hi!” Phil's eyes go wide. "This smells amazing." 

"Blueberry muffins, strawberry muffins, chocolate muffins, a pound cake, croissants in case you're not a fan of sweet stuff-" She rattles off item after item. 

Dan can practically see Phil's mouth watering. 

"Jessie," Dan says. "I think you've stunned my husband with your offering of food." 

“Husband.” He can see shock and maybe something more like fear flash over her face but she covers it almost immediately with an overly bright smile. "Well, there's plenty more where that came from. What did you say your names were again?”

“I’m Dan,” Dan says. “And this is Phil.” 

“Nice to meet you folks.” Jessie's husband steps forward. "And I've got the important stuff here. Not quite as tasty, but this is what you'll be wanting." 

He drops a hefty bound collection of papers into Dan's hand. "What's this?" Dan asks, glancing down at it. He starts to get an idea after flipping through a few pages but he lets Rhett talk anyway. He wants to hear what the guy has to say. 

"That'll be your community charter," he says. "I know it might look intimidating, but it's really not that restrictive. We've just got, you know. We've got things we do in a certain way around here. Keeps the community running smooth as butter." 

Dan's sure he's not imagining the faintly flustered tone that the man's voice takes on. 

"Wow," Dan says. "That's... a lot." 

"You can take the night to read it," Rhett says. "And if you have any questions, maybe the four of us can meet up tomorrow? Get us a good ole' ice cream or something." 

"Ice cream?" Phil's interest is definitely piqued. 

"Sure," Dan says, forcing a smile. "That'd be great." 

Rhett looks at them with obvious relief. "Great. And you'll just. You'll just read up on that overnight, right? The community guidelines?" 

"Right..." Dan says. 

"Fantastic!" Jessie's voice is even higher than it was before. She pats her husband on the arm and says, "Come on now. Let's go make sure the kids haven't torn the house apart while we were out." 

* 

"They didn't seem like the sort to kill us,” Phil says, once they’ve walked away.

"What did you expect them to say?" Dan asks. "Get the fuck out of our town, you f-" 

"Dan," Phil says sharply. 

Phil doesn’t like crude language. Dan’s mouth snaps shut.

"Sorry," Dan says. "Sorry, I'm just tired, and I didn't expect homework on the first night of class." 

"Yes you did," Phil says, reaching out and taking the book from Dan and replacing it with a swab kit. "Just not that homework." 

* 

It takes them four hours to check the house over top to bottom. 

Just like the local police said, there's not a thing out of place. 

"I'm fucking exhausted," Dan says, dropping down onto the sofa. 

Phil drops down beside him, resting his head on Dan's shoulder. "Too tired to make me dinner?" 

Dan groans. "Do we even have food?" 

"No," Phil says. "But we can have something delivered, I'm sure." 

"Takeaway," Dan says. "On our first night as a married couple. Feels wrong." 

"No," Phil says, already scrolling through a location based food order app on his phone. "What's wrong is that the reason we're too busy to cook is actually work and not play." 

"Phil Lester," Dan says. "I'm scandalized." 

Phil grins. "No, you're not. But you are hungry, so how about a Thai?" 

*

It's half one when they finally get all the samples properly stored and labeled. They'll drop them off at the lab in the morning, before they meet their new neighbors for ice cream. 

"Dan?" Phil calls out from the bathroom. "Do you want me to unpack your toiletries for you?" 

Dan usually just uses things straight from his bag, because they're not usually in any one place for more than a few days at a time and hotel bathrooms aren't usually that spacious. 

But he supposes there's no reason not to here. "Sure," he calls out.

And then something drives him up, on his feet. He walks to the door of the ensuite bathroom and just stands there watching. He can see Phil’s reflection in the mirror - no shirt and the paleness of his skin with that bit of hair right at the center of his chest, the concave of his stomach and the way his pajama pants cling to his waistband a bit, the trail of hair going down from underneath his bellybutton… 

Phil catches him staring and raises an eyebrow. He’s got Dan’s travel bottle of shaving foam in his hand. “What?” He asks. 

“Nothing,” Dan says, and steps further into the bathroom. He wraps his arms around Phil’s waist from behind and rests his chin on Phil’s shoulder, their eyes meeting in the mirror. “Just enjoying the moment. This case isn’t so bad.”

“Besides the murders, you mean?” Phil asks, amusement in his voice. 

“Besides that,” Dan says. 

Phil covers Dan’s hand with his own and leans back into him. “Yeah. It’s not so bad.” 

*

“This is creepy,” Dan says, as they walk over a quaint-on-purpose white bridge toward the ice cream shop. They’re early, taking advantage of the timing to scope out the area. 

Or so Phil says. Really, Dan suspects he just wanted to see the ducks. 

“I think it’s nice,” Phil says, bumping shoulders with Dan. “The weather’s amazing here. I think the last time I actually wore shorts was on holiday with my parents last year.” 

“Get those knees out for the lads, Lester,” Dan says, the words nonsensical but familiar in the pattern of their banter. 

In reality, it’s strange for Dan to see Phil so dressed down while they’re technically working. He’s got a black t-shirt with grey Mickey Mouse print, and shorts. 

“Just one lad,” Phil says, glancing over with a smile. 

And oh - that’s strange, too. It makes Dan’s stomach flip with a strange pleasant feeling and propels him to reach out and snag Phil’s hand, slotting their fingers together. 

Phil’s eyes go wide. He looks shocked, glancing around wildly until Dan says - “Husbands, yeah?” 

“Oh,” Phil says, a smile taking shape. He squeezes Dan’s hand. “Husbands.”

* 

Thirty minutes into their neighborly get together, Dan’s pondering the logistics of offing himself with a waffle cone. 

Phil’s doing great, though. He’s cheerfully asking Rhett and Jessie about their sons’ little league skills and looking at what seems like an unending number of cell phone pictures of picturesque children mostly taken in and around overpriced capitalism driven happiness manufacturing corporations known as theme parks. 

But Dan is actually listening. He’s listening to every word and he’s searching the spaces between them. He’s mentally tallying what feel like lies, what might be benign posturing falsehoods and what might hold something more malicious, what makes them uncomfortable and what agenda they seem to be pushing. 

Rhett is talking about his golf game when Dan interrupts. “What happened to the last people that lived in our house?” 

Rhett’s mouth gapes open. His wife is much smoother. “Well, we’re not sure. They just up and disappeared. We assume they didn’t find the town to their liking. It does take a certain sort to acclimate to the wholesome environment around here.” 

“Really? You think they weren’t wholesome?” Dan tries to keep the bristling out of his voice. “They were applying to adopt. We found the paperwork in one of the cabinets when we were unpacking last night. Seems really weird that they’d leave and forget that, right?” 

It’s a complete lie - not the adoption, that part is true, but finding the paperwork. Dan’s a good fucking liar, though. He can see that they buy it completely by the horrified expressions on their faces. 

Phil picks it up without missing a beat. “We would love to get it back to them, if you know someone who could provide us a forwarding address.” 

Rhett’s ice cream is dripping over his fingers. He seems to have forgotten he’s even holding it. “Well, I guess that’ll be Mr. DeFranco you need to talk to.” 

DeFranco. 

Dan files the name away. 

*

“I want to drive,” Phil says, sulking in the passenger seat of their rental car. 

“After Dayton?” Dan asks. 

“I was under the influence,” Phil protests. “That doesn’t count.” 

“Under the influence of _what_?” Dan looks over at Phil, wide-eyed. 

“Extreme stress,” Phil says. “It was a high speed chase environment. You can’t blame me.”

“Extreme… stress?” Dan scoffs. “You were tailing a fifteen year old hacker that stole his mum’s car. And you got stopped by a fucking local sheriff. Then _backed into his car._ ” 

“You make it sound worse than it was,” Phil says. “It was just a little dent! A tiny little bump! It’s like our cars were saying hi!” 

“And as a result the fifteen year old made it all the way to the cinema. If he hadn’t gotten carded at the door, he might have successfully hidden from us.” Dan starts the car. 

*

“Oh!” Phil says, sounding happily surprised. “I just got a facebook friend request from Jessie.” 

The facebook is, of course, fake. But fake Phil has a few hundred friends, pictures dating back to university in good ole’ mother England, all major life occasions immortalized and, more importantly, commented upon. 

Reinventing himself - and sometimes Phil - is one of Dan’s favorite perks of the job. Fake Phil also has a Linkedin page with his fake name, a deactivated okcupid profile, some posts on interior design forums, and a twitter account that he’s only ever used to retweet pictures of strange looking cheese. Dan really hopes that there’s a reason to bring that one up in conversation one day. 

“That fast?” Dan says. 

“Yep, and - oh, an invite to an event....” Phil scrolls down on his phone, reading the details before he looks over at Dan with a wicked smile that means whatever he’s about to say is good for the case but definitely something Dan will hate. “We’re going to our first neighborhood block party!” 

*

"I take it back," Dan says, fixing the cuffs on his collared, button up shirt. "This job isn't a cakewalk, it's a fucking nightmare. Who has block parties? Who literally in the year two thousand and eighteen voluntarily chooses to leave their home and stare neighbors in the face while grilling dead animal in a celebratory fashion?" 

"Dan," Phil says. He's not laughing like Dan expected. 

"What?" Dan tries to catch his eye in the mirror. 

Phil just shakes his head slightly. He looks disappointed, and Dan hates how that twists in his gut. "It was never a cakewalk. It's about real people that are gone." 

"... I know," Dan says, defensively flaring up over whatever had been there moments before. "I know what this job is about." 

"But sometimes when you make jokes like that-" 

"What?" Dan challenges him, turning around. "Come the fuck on, Phil. You know better than anyone that's just how I cope sometimes." 

"Yeah, but." Phil shakes his head again, then shrugs helplessly. "I don't think you really do understand. Because it could be us, you know? We have to hide right now, because of our jobs, but one day we might not. One day this might really be us. Right? Dan? Or is that not what you-"

Phil breaks off, suddenly sounding unsure. His expression matches, an unsettling amount of fear and hesitation in his eyes. 

"Yeah," Dan says, realizing how long he's waited to respond. "Yes. Phil." 

The moment feels sickeningly heavy as Dan realizes that Phil's not sure. Or at least - Phil might be sure about Dan, but he's not sure that Dan feels the same way. 

"Okay," Phil says, and turns to finish buttoning up his shirt. 

*

Dan knows Phil. 

He _knows_ Phil. 

He knows Phil's parents moved him to Florida when he was a teenager. He knows how old Phil was when he applied for US citizenship. He knows what Phil's degrees are in. He knows Phil chose to go to the FBI Academy because he watched too many television shows about aliens and conspiracies growing up. He knows deep down Phil's never stopped hoping that this job will turn out more like it looked on television and less like six hour flights and way too much paperwork. 

He knows the names of Phil's exes. He knows Phil was never in love with any of them, though at least one he's remained fond enough of to meet for coffee when he's in town. He knows Phil rings his mum once a day, because she worries even though he tells her most of the time his job doesn't put him anywhere near danger. He knows Phil's dad likes to pretend Phil's sexuality just doesn't exist; that their whole father-son relationship resides somewhere that's certainly not rejection but also doesn't quite venture into acceptance. He knows Phil's brother is a quite nice guy, and that Phil hates that they don't see each other often because Martyn moved back to England for uni and never returned. 

But until this moment it never dawned on Dan that for all he knows Phil, what's made Phil into the person he is today, who Phil is in this moment - he doesn't have the fucking foggiest concept of what Phil wants for his future - for their future. 

Because Dan just doesn't think about that a lot. The future has always felt scary; back in university, before he let the FBI consume his life, he was a depressed shell of a person who never did anything because looking too far ahead made everything seem impossible. His coping mechanisms might not be the healthiest, but they involve mostly living in the moment and ignoring tomorrow and what it may bring. 

Phil's already downstairs transferring store bought fudge pecan brownies onto a dish to make them look homemade, their offering to the potluck. Dan has to go join him in a minute. If he doesn't, Phil will just come back upstairs to see what's taking Dan so long. 

He doesn't want to see Phil right now. He just - he needs a few mores minutes to wrap his mind around this. Dan's fingers shake as he runs them through his hair. His reflection stares back at him. 

*

There's music outside - a live band positioned at the end of the street, playing... of course... Disney songs. 

"I hate it," Dan says. "I hate it so much." 

It's not even that he hates Disney movies, or music - he just hates the whole concept of a town built up from the ground around it. He hates the white picket fences and the too-bright smiles and the sense of something vaguely sinister that stirs in the perfect Florida breeze. 

"I know you do." Phil pats his arm. 

* 

"Hey, Dan! Phil!" Rhett gets their attention from just down the street. Dan follows Phil as he heads straight for the familiar face. "Hey, Link, check it out - these are those new neighbors I was telling you about. Guys, this here is my main man, Link. He lives three houses down, the purple one."

The man standing at the grill has dark hair shot through with a streak of gray. He's got a spatula in one hand, bits of pink ground beef still clinging to it in a way that turns Dan's stomach, and he's wearing an apron made to look like Mickey's overalls. Even his spatula has mouse ears. 

"It's lavender, you goof," Link says, holding out his free hand. 

Phil shakes it. Dan offers him a polite smile and says, "I think I'm coming down with something, I better not." 

Link makes a face as he pulls his hand back. "Right. I mean. Wouldn't want to contaminate the meat. Hope you boys brought your appetites." 

* 

They separate. 

To cover more ground, Phil says. 

Dan tries to believe him. He doesn’t want to think Phil’s just frustrated with him. Phil’s frustration, distance from Phil - those are his vital weaknesses. 

But he lets Phil walk away, because at the end of the day they really do need to hit this case from every angle that they can. 

Dan’s angle is apparently standing awkwardly by a tree. 

“That’s all you’re going to eat?” A woman, bottle blonde with a too-perfect smile, walks over to him. “Darling, you’re gonna waste away like that.” 

Dan looks up from the ear of corn he’d been halfheartedly nibbling at. “I’m vegan.” 

It’s mostly true. Except when Phil brings him cupcakes. Or breakfast pastries. Or, fuck it, butter is delicious, but he _tries_. At least five times a year, he tries. 

“Right,” she says, and there’s something in the way she looks at him. He recognizes when he’s being sized up, when someone is trying to judge what they already know from hearsay against the reality of him. “And your husband? Is he vegan too?” 

“No,” Dan says. “He’s vegetarian when I’m looking, a human food vacuum when I’m not. He just knows to never try and kiss me with meat breath.”

“Well, I saw my husband forcing a bratwurst on him five minutes ago, so you make sure he doesn’t get away with that,” she says, then finally holds her hand out. “I’m Christy.” 

He shakes it. “Thanks, but I think he’s adept enough to handle men offering him their sausage.” 

She snorts with laughter before quickly composing herself. “Well, I guess that bodes well for your marriage, then.” 

It doesn’t take much more than that to decide that while he has no idea if he can trust her or not, he likes this woman. 

*

Five days, and nothing. 

Well, not nothing. They've been social butterflies all around the neighborhood, dinner at the Neal home and a trip to the art museum with the Greens and Phil insinuating himself rather fluidly into the gossipy housewife circles. They're compiling profiles on persons of interest, trying to subtly dig into the stories behind the previous couples that disappeared, pick at the underbelly of this weird and entirely too picturesque community... 

But nothing is actually _happening_ yet. 

On most assignments by day five with no activity, Dan would be stir crazy. Here he finds himself... Not in a hurry. 

Here he finds himself liking what they’re doing in the down time. 

They're waking up and having breakfast together every morning without having to stagger exits to make it to work with a non-suspicious amount of time between them. They're taking walks together, letting their clasped hands swing between them without being afraid who will see. 

They’re feeding ducks at the park (special duck food, Phil insisted, because bread is bad for them) and kissing softly and sweetly on a bench just as publicly as they fucking can. 

It's an act. It's meant to raise eyebrows and gauge interest in them. 

But it's also just - really fucking nice. 

“What’s on the agenda for today, Pinky?” Dan asks, once he’s watched Phil drain a second cup of coffee and they’ve both had showers. 

"We've got to go shopping," Phil says. "For groceries."

"What?" Dan squints like he doesn’t quite understand what’s being said. Groceries? 

"We've had takeaway four nights in a row. We need actual food. We've got a real kitchen, we can cook!" Phil actually seems excited. 

And Dan - in a move that surprises himself - doesn't find the idea that awful. "Okay," he says, shutting his book. "Let's go shopping."

*

"You're ridiculous," Dan says. "Do we really need three different kinds of biscuits?" 

"Of course." Phil seems offended that Dan would even ask. "You never know what kind of biscuit mood you're going to be in. Oatmeal raisin is an entirely different state of mind than chocolate chip." 

"What about-" Dan picks up the third package. "Biscoff? Phil, these are the things you get on planes. Why are you buying plane biscuits!" 

"They remind me of digestives," Phil says. "Except delicious gingery digestives." 

"We can probably get real digestives in the imports aisle," Dan points out, and then immediately regrets it at the way Phil's face lights up. 

They end up going home with all four. 

*

But they do buy real food, too - actual vegetables, fresh greens for a salad later, chicken to thaw because Phil says he's got a recipe he's been wanting to try. 

"You don't cook," Dan says, affronted. 

Phil laughs. "I don't cook because I never have time to cook. But I used to, with my mum." 

"I didn't know that," Dan says. 

Six years and he still doesn't know basic things like that Phil likes to cook. It makes him feel strange and almost embarrassed. 

"So now you do," Phil says, smile gentle. "I'll make us dinner tonight." 

*

They sit at their kitchen table, with their newly purchased dishware and a candle gifted to them by one of the neighbors as a welcome gift flickering between them. 

It's picturesque. It's perfect. 

It's not them at all. This isn't their life.

But maybe Phil wants it to be. Maybe it _could_ be. 

So right now Dan dips his toes in and pretends. 

*

It’s really shocking how much freedom they’re given. 

They’re good at their jobs - that’s the reason. Somehow their strengths complement each other’s in just the right way. They work together well, they come at problems from different angles and somewhere in the middle is usually the answer. 

But they still have to report back to Assistant Director at least twice a week, and she still needs something to tell her own directors about what the agents in Florida are doing while they blow government funds on Disney World merchandise and still far too much takeaway. 

“There’s one guy,” Dan says. “We haven’t met him yet but he seems to be the one that everyone else bows down too. I get a strange vibe just from the way people talk about him.” 

“A strange vibe,” she says. “What about instead of putting that down we just do, I don’t know, a background check?” 

He appreciates the sass. It’s exactly his style of humor.

“Came back clean,” Dan says. “Wife, two kids, steady career.”

“Disappointing,” Phil says. “Much easier if it came back marked ‘homicidal maniac, arrest immediately.” 

“Much easier,” Dan agrees. “Maybe next time.” 

*

"Dan, that's hideous," Phil says. 

"What, you mean you don't want this in front of our actual house one day?" He flicks his eyes over at Phil, cataloging Phil's reaction in a split second enough to make it seem casual even though Dan's insides are fluttering with nerves. 

It's become like a game almost. How normal can this be? How far can they push the line? 

How much of a fall are they setting themselves up for when they have to go back to real life? 

"Maybe just a nice flag," Phil says. "But really - you're going to put it up?" 

"Yep," Dan says. "You're having coffee with, what's her name?" 

"Cat," Phil says. "Two streets over, the house with the Daisy topiary. She and her best friend moved here three years ago, but her best friend got engaged and moved away. She seems lonely." 

"Tell her you're taken," Dan says. 

"Dan!" Phil laughs. "She's not interested in me like that." 

"Not just taken," Dan continues as though he hadn't heard. "Married. You're married." 

Phil doesn't say anything. When Dan looks up, he's just standing there smiling. 

"What?" Dan says. 

"Nothing." Phil smiles, reaching for his phone to slide it into his pocket. "You're just cute when you're jealous."

"Not jealous," Dan mumbles, hating how he knows his flushed face gives him away. 

* 

Phil's good to him. 

Dan knows it. He knows how lucky he is to have Phil as a partner, on the job and off. He'd had relationships before, but never like this. He's never been with a person who made him feel completely at ease and lit from within at the same time. 

His mum used to be worried at how alone he was. She doesn’t know that he and Phil are together, but he thinks she probably suspects because instead of telling him he needs to get out more all she does now is ask how Phil is doing. 

If he felt like being honest with her, he’d tell her that he’s never been happier with someone in his life. But the thing is - the thing rocking his foundation right now, it's that he's always left his certainty wrapped up in sitting on a box on the shelf in his mind. There, within reach if he needs it, but otherwise forgotten. He's never had to take it out and make room for it in his life, something sitting out on display for everyone to see. 

And that's what they're doing here. They're putting everything on display. The people around them might not know what they're looking at, but they're seeing it all the same. 

Will it be easy to put this back into a box? To go back to living a life where he and Phil don't wake up in a bedroom that's theirs, to know their names are on separate leases and they're living lives of carefully drawn lines? 

It's going to suck, he thinks. It's going to suck a whole fucking lot. 

* 

It takes him twenty minutes to swap the mailbox out. 

He spends the entire time glancing up and down the road, almost expecting one of the creepy idyllic neighbors to come rounding the corner with an overly bright smile telling him to take it down. 

But nothing happens and once he’s screwed the final screw into its bracket, he steps back and takes a moment to admire the gaudy rainbow painted monstrosity of a mailbox. 

*

Phil's on the phone with his mum when he walks back in. "Let me just ask Dan," he says, lowering the phone a bit. He walks right over to Dan and gives him a kiss hello. "Dan, do you want to have dinner with my parents this weekend?" 

“What?” Dan asks, feeling caught off guard. 

Phil sighs a bit, a quiet sound, and says, “Mum, let me call you back. I need to see if we’ll be free.” 

“You want me to have dinner with your parents?” Dan asks. 

“Or lunch,” Phil says. 

“Why?” Dan asks. 

"They’ve got a vacation house near here, I told you that. They decided to come since I said we'd probably be here for at least another week. But it’s fine, I’ll go alone," Phil says, then immediately changes the subject. “Hey, I thought you were going to put the new mailbox out?” 

“What?” Dan asks, putting his laptop aside with a frown of confusion. “I did.” 

“Are you sure?” Phil asks. “Because it’s not out there now.” 

Dan walks to the front window and tugs the curtain aside, jaw dropping. 

The mailbox is gone, and in its place is a community regulations standard black, identical to the one they had before. 

Dan pushes the door open, leaving Phil calling after him in a confused voice.

He stands in the middle of the street staring at it, perplexed. 

“Hey there, neighbor,” Rhett says, walking out his front door. He’s holding Dan’s fantastically rainbow proud mailbox in his arms. 

“That’s my fucking mailbox,” Dan says. 

Rhett’s smile stays perfectly pleasant. “It is. And it’s a darn nice one, too, but I’m afraid it’s not up to code.” 

“Up to code?” Dan asks. 

“Code,” Rhett repeats. The smile still doesn’t waver but his voice has a harder edge to it. “Community guidelines.” 

“You have guidelines for mailboxes?” Dan asks. 

“Sure do,” Rhett says. “Now, it’s not like you don’t have any freedom, we’ve got… oh, a good six or seven options. You can even go green if you want! Good ole’ standard traditional, or a double if you’re feeling spicy. But you’re welcome to use this traditional black just as long as you need.” 

“You replaced my mailbox without asking me?” Dan says. “And you had a spare one just waiting to replace it?” 

“Yeah, we upgraded a couple months ago, didn’t bother to get around to putting the old one in the trash.” Rhett says. He holds the rainbow mailbox back out to Dan, who takes it. “This would be a great statement piece inside your house. You and your sweetie can leave notes back and forth.” 

“I think I’d rather have it outside,” Dan says. “Where people can see it.” 

“Well, that’s just not up to code, I’m afraid,” Rhett says apologetically. “Nothing we can do about that.” 

“But what if I do want to do something about it?” Dan asks. “Who would I talk to.” 

Rhett looks away and shakes his head slightly, the first break in his placid demeanor. “Head of the neighborhood association. That’s who you’d need to talk to.” 

“How do I do that, exactly?” Dan asks. “There’s no email or phone number listed on the website, and I don’t have his address.” 

“He’s a hard guy to get ahold of sometimes,” Rhett acknowledges. 

“But you could help,” Dan says. “You can put me in touch with him.” 

Rhett’s smile finally falls away entirely, and he just sounds tired when he says, “Yeah. I can do that.”

*

It takes another four days, but Phil comes home from a lunch with Jessie and Christy to say that they’ve got a dinner date at the DeFranco household the next night. 

*

A bead of sweat rolls down Dan’s temple. 

Phil kisses if off, smearing the wetness against his lips and Dan’s skin. He shifts his hips, and Dan groans like the sound is being pulled right out of his soul. 

“Phil,” he says. When Phil doesn’t respond, just keeps moving instinctively with his hands braced against Dan’s shoulders, Dan puts his hands on Phil’s hips and says it again. “Phil.”

“What?” Phil says. His expression is cloudy with pleasure. “Do you need me to-” 

“Stay,” Dan says, but keeps his touch steady. “Why did you ask me to lunch with your parents?” 

“Oh my god, Dan,” Phil says. “Please don’t ask about my parents while we’re-” 

“I’m serious,” Dan says. “Why?” 

“Because.” Phil struggles to answer. His body moves of its own accord, just a little. Dan sighs and shifts into it. “Because you three are the most important people in my life. I want you to know them. I want them to know you.” 

Who knew, Dan thinks. Sentimentality is a fucking turn on. “Okay,” he says, and gasps as Phil starts to ride him again. “I’ll go.” 

*

It’s by far the nicest dinner they’ve been invited into since moving in… and the creepiest home, a mix of new money garishness and glass case displayed artifacts. 

They’ve been introduced to all sorts of Disney memorabilia collections, but none of them were as morbid and ominous as what lines the walls of the DeFranco home. DeFranco himself, a pleasant looking middle aged man with a young face wearing a polo shirt and slacks, delights in showing them around. “This is one of the actual human bones that was originally in the Pirates of the Caribbean.” 

“I’m going to have nightmares about this,” Phil says, staring at a blank faced doll. 

They’re the only ones getting the tour, the other couples - Rhett and Jessie, Link and Christy - are in the sitting room enjoying a pre-dinner drink. 

“That’s one of the older It’s a Small World dolls,” he says. “These go for crazy amounts on the auction circuit. You wouldn’t believe what I paid.”

The bragging goes on and on; a porthole from 20,000 Leagues under the Sea, an animatronic hand from the Indiana Jones adventure, rare sketches and books and each one seems to have a story behind it. 

Which works perfectly for Dan, who leaves Phil to listen to him talk while Dan wanders in closer to what seems to be a study. There’s a rich mahogany desk with a triple monitor display and absolutely nothing else, to Dan’s annoyance. No stray pieces of paper laying around with pointed obviously decodable evidence. No conveniently placed bodies of former neighborhood residents. 

No skeletons in the closet that Dan can see just from a bit of snooping - though apparently, Dan thinks, he prefers to actually show those off. 

(And yes, he makes a note to use that joke on Phil later.)

*

“Dinner was delicious,” Phil says. 

He’s not exaggerating. As much as Dan expected disappointment, they’ve been treated to a multi-course meal of lentil caviar, vegan spinach quiche, avocado gazpacho, and grilled marinated hearts of palm. 

“You’ll have to get the recipe,” Dan says, and he’s not joking at all. He directs his next smile to DeFranco’s wife, a friendly looking redhead dressed in clothes that probably cost a month’s rent for Dan. “He’s right, it was amazing.” 

“Fantastic! And totally, I can get you the recipes for everything! I have to admit, I enjoyed this. We’re not vegan but as soon as I heard you were I knew I wanted to challenge myself in the kitchen.” 

“You should get them right now,” Dan says. “For when your parents are over.”

“That’s a great idea!” Phil catches on quickly. “My parents are coming to see the house for the first time this weekend.” 

“Do they live nearby?” Jessie asks. 

“They’ve got a vacation home near Kissimmee,” Phil says. “It’s part of the reason we wanted to move here.” 

“They’re getting on in years,” Dan says, knowing he’ll have to smooth over the harsh reminder with Phil later on in private. “And they’re going to retire here so we thought we’d just beat them to the punch.” 

“They’ve always said they wanted to live in the same country as their grandchildren,” Phil says. “And Dan and I don’t plan on going back to England.” 

“That’s so sweet!” Jessie says. “Are you planning on kids soon?” 

Dan glances at Phil, realizing that while he’s aware this is all under the pretense of their assignment… he still wants to hear what Phil has to say. 

Phil must realize it, because he glances at Dan with one of those small, real smiles on his face. “We’ve been so caught up with getting married and finding somewhere to put down roots that we haven’t exactly discussed it in depth, so I don’t know about soon. But I do - I do want kids. And Dan…” 

“I do too,” Dan says, reaching out and squeezing Phil’s hand. It’s under the table but everyone can see the motion, no one would mistake it for anything but physical contact. 

*

Dan sees his opportunity to get DeFranco alone when dessert is finished and people are gathering their belongings. 

“Babysitters,” the wives say apologetically, while the husbands are already hovering at the door. 

“Before we go,” Dan says, looking right at DeFranco, “I had a few questions about the community guidelines, and people seem to think you’re the guy I should talk to.” 

DeFranco doesn’t look surprised at all. He claps Dan on the shoulder in the macho way that Dan hates and says, “I guess I am, champ. I guess I am. Why don’t we go into my office and let’s see if we can get those questions answered.” 

*

They leave DeFranco’s wife and Phil exchanging recipes. 

“I want to hang a pride flag up outside my house,” Dan says. “And I want my rainbow mailbox.” 

“We just can’t accommodate that, I’m afraid,” he says. 

“Show me where you can’t.” 

DeFranco stares at Dan, then seems to almost roll his eyes as he sits down at his desk and pulls out the thick binder of community rules. He flips through it, then taps his finger against a page. “Each residential unit may display up to three flags, or two flags plus one Service Flag, visible from the primary street selected from the following: one or more United States flag, one service flag, one flag which represents a military unit, or one state of Florida flag. Decorative flags are permitted only as they pertain to the celebratory nature of the town’s origins.” 

“So I have to stare at my neighbor’s Mickey Mouse on a bicycle flag every morning but I can’t hang my pride flag,” Dan says. “What if I draw Mickey diddling Goofy on it? Does that count?”

DeFranco keeps reading without acknowledging Dan. “The term decorative flag below includes all flags which are not US national, state, or service flags. Decorative flags which are offensive or controversial in nature are not permitted, even as adhering to the nature of the town’s origins.” 

“... that’s a no, then,” Dan says. 

“Look.” The man runs his fingers through his hair, then pulls his hat back on. He’s got a young face, not at all what Dan expected. “The thing about this town is - we’re a well oiled machine, you know? We have procedures. We follow those procedures. Everything turns out a-okay. You can’t follow those procedures… then maybe this just isn’t the place for you.” 

“We bought the house,” Dan says. “Seems like that makes it just the place for us.” 

DeFranco slaps his hand down on the thick book on his desk. “Community guidelines, kid. Community guidelines. That’s all I can tell you.” 

“I’m not a kid,” Dan says, standing firm. “And I feel like your community guidelines don’t advocate for the inclusivity we were told this neighborhood embraced.” 

“Run that by me again?” DeFranco asks, though it’s perfectly clear he understands exactly what Dan is saying to him. 

“It seems that this is twice now you’re specifically prohibiting the display of things that relate to the LGBTQIA community,” Dan says. 

“Look, k- Dan,” DeFranco says, steepling his fingers together. “I’ll be frank with you. I don’t give a fuck what you do in the privacy of your own bedroom, but things are done in a certain way around here. If you can’t understand that, then I can’t be held responsible for what happens.” 

“What’s going to happen?” Dan asks, his heart thrumming because this feels like he’s getting somewhere. “What aren’t you responsible for?” 

DeFranco starts to answer, then his entire expression shifts into something jovial. Dan looks over his shoulder and sees Mrs. DeFranco standing there, Phil just over her shoulder. 

“Come on now, sweet,” she says. “I know you’re all obsessed with your little rules, but we need to let these guys get home. They’re newlyweds! I’m sure they can’t go ten hours without having some fun.” 

“Yeah,” Dan says, smiling at DeFranco. “She’s right. Come on, Phil. Let's go home and have some fun.”

Dan’s quiet for the short walk home. Once they’re inside he disappears into the bathroom. 

Something about the conversation made him feel like he needed to shower. 

*

“Anything useful?” Phil asks when Dan steps out of the bathroom. He’s already in bed, shirtless and presumably just in his underwear tucked under their duvet, but glasses still on. 

“It’s against community guidelines,” Dan says. “People can hang up fucking Disney flags but not a pride one.”

“But you already knew that,” Phil says, tilting his head. “What is it, really?” 

“It’s just fucked up.” Dan drops down onto the bed beside Phil. His hair is still wet and he can’t be bothered to put clothes on. He shuts his eyes and covers them with his arm. “It’s fucked up that we have to be here doing this.” 

Phil tugs Dan’s arm away and pulls Dan in close to him. It’s nice to cuddle like this, his head on Phil’s chest. The hair just around Phil’s nipples tickles his skin and Dan nuzzles into it. It’s a part of Phil, like his weird pointy adam’s apple and the peach fuzz on his tummy and the freckles on his thighs and the way he sounds like he’s swallowed a porcupine in the morning, and his big heart and his clever dry sense of humor and his brain that goes in so many directions Dan can’t even fathom, they’re all parts of Phil that make up the person Dan’s so fucking in love with. The _man_ that Dan is in love with - and it doesn’t matter, really, it’s not Phil’s dick that Dan’s in love with but Phil having a dick is why parts of the world - just like this town - thinks Dan shouldn’t be. 

Anything that doesn’t fit the box they’ve decided normal resides in gets punished - and here it’s apparently a death sentence. 

“Yeah. It is fucked up,” Phil says. He sounds empty when he speaks and maybe, Dan thinks, Phil didn’t need so long for the reality of this to sink in. Maybe Phil knew sitting in Hart’s office just how fucked up and shitty this would feel. 

*

It’s a Wednesday night, and Dan’s stomach is growling. 

He’s about to ask if they should cook or put in an order when Phil sticks his head in the kitchen. "We've got movement.” He's wearing track pants and has no shoes on. "I wonder if it's against the community guidelines to go on a walk in your pajamas?" 

They take every opportunity they can to pop out and have a chat with the neighbors - and by they, it's Phil. It's always Phil, unless he happens to be researching or running to the store, because they've been here for over two weeks now and that's long enough to start needing to nip out to the shop and pick up necessities now and then. 

"Which one is it?" Dan asks. He's still dressed. 

"Jessie," Phil says. 

Dan hasn't had any one on one time with her, though she and Phil are friendly. "I'll take it. You start dinner." 

Phil looks surprised, but he doesn't argue. 

* 

"Hey there," he calls out, pasting his best fake-friendly smile on. "Mind some company?" 

She has a little white dog on a lead that runs up to Dan and immediately starts sniffing his legs. 

She doesn't actually look enthused but she says, "Sure. Of course," because that's what she's expected to say. 

They lapse into silence for a minute. Dan doesn't want to rush anything. 

"Nice night out," he finally says. 

"It is," she says. "I like quiet nights like this. I always wait to walk Lola until after sundown." 

"I'm sorry if I interrupted your me-time," Dan says. 

"Oh, no - you're fine. Company is pleasant too." She gives him a slightly apologetic smile, like she's just realized how her words could have been interpreted. "Adult company especially. When I try to bring the kids they just get into everything." 

"Does your husband ever join you?" Dan asks. 

"No, he..." There's a falter to her voice. "He works late. He and Link, they own a company together." 

"Owning a company would keep you busy, I imagine," Dan says. 

She laughs. It's a bitter sound. "Yeah. They started it just after we got married. It was a hard few years to begin with. I complain now, but back then I almost never saw him. And they're doing well. I shouldn't say anything. That's how we can afford this house, and this lifestyle." 

"It's still alright to complain," Dan says. "You can think something is crap even if there's a silver lining." 

She gives him a surprised smile. "Yeah. I guess so." 

Dan almost hates how calculated everything about this is, on his end, but he can almost see her start to trust him, start to like him, and that's exactly what he needs to happen. 

*

"Your main suspect is still DeFranco?" Hart asks during their weekly check in. "Are you closing in on him?"

"I think we're getting somewhere," Dan says. "We got his travel history back yesterday, he's taken four trips to Tibet over the past eighteen months. Just him, not his wife or family. Both were under three day visits and there's no record of it being work related at all." 

"You think these are related to the murders?" Hart asks. She sounds dubious. 

"We don't think it's not related," Phil says, which is an answer that only he can pull off and still somehow have it make sense. "In each case the flight was purchased the day of or day before, and each trip happened within a week of a disappearance in town." 

"Alright," Hart says. "See if you can find out more about these trips. Keep me updated."

*

Lunch with Phil’s parents is an adventure. 

He’s met them before, once or twice. The first was a passing hi as he dropped Phil off to meet them one night, the second a passing moment of awkwardness as they showed up to Phil’s apartment too early and Dan hadn’t left yet. 

They’re nice people. Dan would probably like them a lot if they were really… well, if they were his in-laws. Instead there’s a sense of polite distance as they chat over Greek food, Dan doing more listening than joining in. 

*

Phil’s quiet for most of the drive back to their house. 

(The house. _The_ house.) 

“Dan,” he finally says. “I have something to tell you.” 

“Oh god, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Dan feigns shock and horror. “I knew we should never have gone off the pill.” 

He expects Phil to laugh, but Phil doesn’t even crack a smile. 

“Dan,” Phil says again. 

“Okay. Kinda freaking me out here, mate. What’s up?” 

“My parents know,” he says. 

Dan looks over, thoroughly confused. “About what? The murders?” 

“No - us. My parents know about us. I told them.” 

“... oh.” Dan looks ahead again, eyes on the road. “I… oh. How long ago?” 

“Um.” Phil tilts his head back against the headrest. “About, uh. Please don’t get mad at me. About a week after we got together.” 

“After we slept together, or-” 

“... yes.” 

“Phil, you told your parents you fucked your brand new partner?” Dan gapes at him. He can’t even imagine what Kath’s reaction would have been. 

“No!” Phil’s voice goes squeaky high. “Of course not! I just told them that you were lovely and I already had feelings for you, and my mum told me she had a psychic dream in which I found love, and that it was probably fate-” 

“Phil.” 

“You know we’ve got psychic blood in our veins,” Phil says. 

“Okay, revisiting that another time, but - so your parents. They know? We’re together? They’ve known for years?” Dan asks. 

“I can’t keep anything from my mum,” Phil says in a quiet voice, not ashamed but still reserved. “I couldn’t keep this from her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me they knew, then?” Dan asks. 

“I don’t know,” Phil says. “I guess I thought - we’ve never really talked about anyone knowing. I thought you didn’t want anyone to know, I didn’t… I didn’t know how you’d react. It didn’t seem worth it to risk you being angry in the beginning, and then it seemed like too long had passed and it would be strange to tell you, since I hadn’t to begin with.” 

“I’m not angry,” Dan says. He’s not lying. He’s feeling something, something heavy and sad in his chest, but it isn’t anger. “I wish you’d told me, though. Maybe before this dinner. It would have been nice to have known.” 

Regret, perhaps. Disappointment. A desire to spin back time and get to enjoy the lunch for what it was, his first time properly meeting his boyfriend’s parents. 

“Yeah?” Phil asks quietly. “I’m sorry, Dan. We could always try to see them again before they’re off.” 

He thinks about the scene they’ve just exited, sitting around the table except this time being able to hold Phil’s hand, not having to constant guard himself to keep details from spilling out that are meant to be just between them. 

“Yeah,” Dan says. He knows Phil won’t complain about seeing his parents the second time within a matter of weeks. “We should do that.”

*

There are two Amazon boxes sitting on the porch when they get home. One is massive and heavy, the other is slender and light. 

“What’d you order?” Phil asks. “Anything good?”

“You’ll see,” Dan says, grabbing the end of one to drag it inside. 

*

He waits until nightfall to set it up. It takes him about half an hour. No one is outside. No one shows up to interrupt him. 

The flag is massive, bigger than anything in the community guidelines. 

His flagpole is also non-regulation, one with a wide solid base instead of one meant to be planted in the ground.

Once it’s set up completely, he steps back to enjoy his handiwork. There are security cameras positioned at five different places in the yard now so he’ll know exactly who takes it down if it’s removed by morning.

He’s almost back inside when he hears a frantic shouting. “You have to take that down, you have to put it in the garage-” 

He turns and sees Link there, waving his arms. 

“It’s my pride flag. I’m proud. I want to show it. If it’s against community regulations then I welcome you to file a complaint against me, but I’m- hey, what the fuck-” Dan breaks off when Link starts to grab it and drag it bodily up the driveway. “Stop that!” 

“You can’t. You can’t have this out. It won’t like-” 

Link stops abruptly. 

Something in the air shifts. 

Thunder claps, but the sky still looks clear. 

There’s a strange tinkling sound. It’s music that Dan doesn’t recognize, but it feels familiar all the same. 

Link’s eyes are wide and terrified. 

Link’s wife comes outside. She stands on their doorstep and shouts his name. 

Link looks over at her. 

Dan does too, and that’s his mistake. In the span of time when his eyes flicker over, the music swells and Link is gone. 

*

“What happened?” Phil asks. He’s wearing pajama pants and one of Dan’s hoodies, clearly grabbed off the laundry pile on the floor. 

Dan feels shell shocked. “I have no idea.” 

He’d seen - something. 

He just can’t describe it. “He’s just gone. He’s just fucking - Phil, he’s gone. He was standing there and there was this… weird music, like… something out of the fucking 1940s. He screamed and there was a metallic sound- I don’t know what it was.” 

Phil pulls his phone out and turns the torch on. Dan follows behind him to where Link had been standing. 

There’s no body. There’s nothing there, except - a manhole cover. 

“There,” Dan says. “It came from down there.”

*

"I don't understand," Christy says, sitting with her hands clasped over her knees and her head bowed down. "I don't understand. This isn't how it works." 

"How what works?" Dan asks. 

She looks up. Her eyes are watery and bloodshot. "It doesn't come after people like us. It comes after people like you." 

There's a violent twist her voice at the end, so strong that Dan takes a step back. 

It's Phil that faces her head on and says, "But it did go after you." 

“No,” a voice from the doorway says. 

Dan turns to see Rhett standing there with an empty look in his eyes. “Not her. Just Link.” 

Christy sobs again. 

Rhett’s wife goes to her, but Rhett stands in the doorway. 

Two puzzle pieces in Dan’s head suddenly click together. 

He gives Phil a look and with a brief nod of his head conveys that Phil should stay here while Dan takes Rhett aside. 

*

“You and Link were fucking.” 

Rhett looks shocked. “No! I mean. Yeah, but it wasn’t sleezy like you’re making it sound. We just. I don’t know, man. It’s just always been like that, with me and him. We grew up together, you know? Best friends. We practiced kissing together. And then we practiced everything else together. And then it stopped being practicing.”

“But you got married. You both have wives. You have families.” 

“Well,” Rhett says. “Yeah. Because that’s what you do, you know? Where we come from. That’s just what you do, you get married and you have yourself some kids. We both always wanted that. We just wanted…” 

“Each other,” Dan finished. 

“Yeah. When we moved here, it seemed like the most perfect damn thing in the world. Our wives get along. Our kids get along. We live right next door to each other now. It was - perfect,” Rhett says, voice cracking at the end. His last words are almost whispered, and definitely not to Dan. “Damnit, man, you gotta come back to me.” 

“They don’t know, then?” Dan asks, nodding toward the room where Christy can still be heard crying faintly. 

Rhett shakes his head. “No. They don’t know.” 

“If you knew - if you thought something was taking gay people, why weren’t you worried-” 

“We were,” Rhett says. “But it left us alone for so long. So we thought maybe it just didn’t know about us?” 

“You thought there was a supernatural creature with enough cognizance to only target non-straight people but you could hide from it?” Dan recounts. There’s no judgement in his voice - but he has to work very hard to keep it that way. 

“Yeah,” Rhett says, and then he puts his face in his hands just like Christy had before, and he cries. When he speaks again he looks right at Dan and says, “You need to leave. Don’t let this happen to you.” 

“We’re not going anywhere,” Dan says. “We’re here to find out what’s happening.” 

Rhett looks him up and down like he’s seeing Dan for the first time. “Then you need to talk to DeFranco.” 

*

Another ten minutes passes before Dan rejoins the group of people who have gathered in Link and Christy’s livingroom to comfort her. 

Most of them seem genuinely concerned about her. A few keep looking at Dan and Phil with a mix of shock, confusion, and betrayal. 

They all think what Rhett thinks, Dan realizes. That whatever they think is doing this was supposed to take Dan and Phil, not Link. 

Dan puts a hand on Phil’s arm and leans in, whispering in his ear. “We need to go. I know who did it.” 

*

The DeFranco house is dark, no lights on. They stand on the porch and wait after ringing the doorbell. 

“Do you think he’s already run?” Phil asks. “Did someone tip him off?” 

“Or he’s trying to hide the body,” Dan says, voice grim. 

“Do you still have his tag number?” Phil asks. “If he’s-” 

He stops talking abruptly when the door opens. 

*

“Where is Link Neal?” Dan asks. They’re in the study. Dan’s not sure why, but DeFranco led them there and they’d followed. 

DeFranco shakes his head. “I can’t help you with that.” 

“You know he’s missing,” Dan says. “You know where he is.” 

“I don’t,” DeFranco says. “But there’s no point in looking. You won’t find him. I’m sorry. I wish things were different. But once it gets them, they don’t come back.” 

“What did you do?” Phil asks. It’s only through virtue of how well they know each other that Dan can hear how horrified Phil really is. 

Dan’s jaded, but Phil’s never stopped being shocked that there are monsters in the world. Dan hopes he never is. 

“I can’t help you,” DeFranco says again. His voice is hollow and empty. “I can’t help myself. I can’t help any of us.” 

“You can stop murdering your neighbors for being gay,” Dan says. “That’d be a start.” 

“I didn’t murder anyone.” DeFranco looks right at him. “But I am the reason they’re dead.” 

Phil stiffens. Both of them reach for their concealed weapons. 

If DeFranco notices, he doesn’t react. 

“Where are the bodies?” Dan demands. “Is Link Neal dead already?”

“I didn’t kill them.” DeFranco says. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“You just said-” 

“No. I said I’m the reason they’re dead. But I didn’t kill them myself. It’s more than that, it’s… you’re not going to believe me.” 

“Try us,” Phil says. 

“Or don’t,” Dan says. “The police on are on their way no matter what you say.” 

“When this town was founded, it was supposed to be the start of something beautiful. It was supposed to be the American dream, hope for the rest of the world. We were going to be the leading example of how to make this country good and right again. But over the years the people here just… lost sight of that. We became any other town in America. We just wanted to bring the place back to what it was,” DeFranco says. “What it was meant to be. We just wanted to reach the full potential. We thought… we found this… statue. We didn’t know what it would really do. We didn’t know who we were bringing back with it.” 

“Statue?” Dan asks. 

DeFranco walks over to the large wooden bookshelf that spans one wall, the one Dan had tried getting into the previous week and found locked. 

The key is in DeFranco’s wallet. He slots it in and turns, then reaches inside and pulls out a cloth covered box. He’s gone pale when he turns back around. “This.” 

He puts it on the table and then unwraps the heavy black velvet from around it. Inside is a wooden box, and he opens that as well to reveal a small black figurine that is clearly meant to be a mouse carved from a dark, almost black, wood. 

“We got it from the collector’s black market. A woman delivered it, and she told us what we needed to do.” DeFranco says. “After those two women disappeared the first time, I tried to contact her. She wasn’t even in the country anymore. I tried, I flew halfway around the world - multiple times - trying to figure out what this thing is and how to stop it.”

“We?” Dan asks. “You said she told ‘us’ what ‘we’ need to do. Who is the we?”

DeFranco looks at him and shakes his head. “No one else is going down with me for this. No names. I needed people for the ceremony, but I bought and paid for it. I was behind it.” 

“What was the ceremony?” Phil asks. 

“I can’t - no. I’m not gonna tell you. But I’ll tell you that we did it, and it worked. It just didn’t work the way we wanted. We thought we could bring back the spirit of Walt and instead we brought back all the bad parts. Whatever it was that came through - it has a very specific idea of what this town should be, and-” 

Phil makes the connection first. “So you brought the demon spirit of Walt Disney back to life, and it hates gay people?” 

“Not just gay,” DeFranco says. “Anyone not… straight.”

“How inclusive of it,” Dan says. 

He doesn’t for a second buy this bullshit. 

“Can’t you just… send it back?” Phil gestures in what is apparently a universal ‘send evil spirit back to the underworld’ gesture. 

“No. We can’t. And I don’t know why,” DeFranco says, staring down at the ground. “I don’t know what we did wrong that we can’t send it back, but we can’t - it just won’t go.” 

His eyes look wild and desperate as he stares up at Dan and Phil. 

“But it doesn’t matter,” he says. “Because it’s me. I know it’s me. I’m the one that completed the ceremony, in this house. It thinks that this is its home, so the blood samples you sent off are going to come back positive. It’s all going to come back to me.” 

Dan wants to say that he might have a case for insanity, but he’s been told that’s not actually professional behavior. 

“Do you want to confess?” Phil says. 

“Now?” DeFranco asks. “I can’t… my kids… fuck, my kids. I just want this all to stop.” 

For the first time, Dan feels a stab of genuine pity - not for the man that he’s absolutely sure murdered six people in cold blood, but for those kids. 

“It might be best for them if you didn’t draw this out,” Phil says gently. “But it’s your decision.” 

DeFranco sighs, head in his hands. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll confess. But you know the problem won’t go away.”

Dan stares down at the statue. He picks it up, and DeFranco inhales sharply. “So you really think this is behind everything?” Dan asks. 

“Yeah,” DeFranco says. 

Dan turns and tosses it into the fireplace. 

DeFranco lunges out of his seat, but Phil’s hand on his chest stops him. 

They all watch it burn. 

*

They sit with DeFranco until the police arrive, and they watch him be walked away in cuffs. 

“Probably shouldn’t have burned that,” Dan idly comments, when no one else is within earshot. “It was probably evidence.” 

“It’s good you burned it,” Phil says. “It was cursed.” 

Dan looks over at him. “You don’t seriously believe that, do you?” 

“Of course I do,” Phil says. “My mum always said demons are real. There were some old china plates of my great aunties that she told me to never touch because they had an evil spirit lurking in them.” 

“Your mum also told you that if you ate green food you’d get muscles like The Hulk,” Dan says. “I love Kath but she was not afraid of the fine parenting method of lying your ass off to get immediate results, and you know if you’d come within two steps of anything China it would have shattered just to save you the trouble of dropping it.”

“Hey,” Phil protests. “But - does that mean you think it wasn’t a spirit?” 

“Fuck no,” Dan says. “I think it was a human being who needs psychological help and to be locked away for a long time.”

Phil’s clearly about to say something else when they hear a shock sound. They share a look and then walk out of the room, following the sound outside. 

Link stands there, covered in dust and smears of blood, looking shellshocked and staring at Rhett while holding his wife in his arms.

*

Dan’s DC apartment feels so empty. 

The fridge is bare. His dishware has a layer of dust over it from how long it’s been since he even tried to make food here that didn’t involve microwaving and eating straight out of the container. His closet is mostly empty. 

The only window in the living room faces a brick building across the alleyway. There’s no sunlight filtering in through gauzy white curtains. There’s no plush sofa with Phil lounging on it. 

He picks up his phone and writes out a text: _coming over._

*

They kiss in the doorway and as soon as Dan pulls back he says, “I want to marry you.”

Phil looks shell shocked. “What? Are you proposing?” 

“No,” Dan says. He steps past Phil and then reaches back to pull Phil into the apartment with him. “I’m not proposing. And I think the idea of marriage is archaic and pointless in today’s society and we shouldn’t need a document signed by a total stranger to signify commitment. But I liked being married to you. And one day I want to be married to you for real.” 

“Dan…” Phil says. There’s question in his voice still, but also some melancholy. “You know we can’t-” 

“Maybe,” Dan says, sitting down and looking at Phil. His foot taps with non stop jitteriness. “I don’t think I want to be in the FBI for the rest of my life. I don’t know what I want to do, but probably not this forever. I’m not ready to walk away now. But - one day.” 

Phil is quiet for a long time. He doesn’t join Dan on the sofa. “Me too,” he finally says. “I don’t want to do it forever, either.”

It’s not what Dan was expecting. “You love being an agent,” he says. 

“I do,” Phil agrees. “I’m not ready to leave it yet. I don’t want to walk away right now either. But when I think about my future… I think I’m going to want something calmer, one day. I don’t want to have kids who don’t know if I’ll come home at the end of the day.” 

“Kids,” Dan says faintly. 

Phil half-smiles and shrugs. “One day?” 

“Yeah.” Dan nods, mostly to himself. “One day.” 

Phil finally sits, reaching over and taking Dan’s hand. “So that’s where we’re at, yeah? Right now, we keep doing what we’re doing, and…” 

And they’ll figure it out when they’re ready to. 

One day.

**Author's Note:**

> This resembles a coherent fic because of the endless help and hand holding I got from [Sarah](http://waveydnp.tumblr.com), [Dann](http://queerofcups.tumblr.com), and of course my fantastic prb beta [phanetixs](http://phanetixs.tumblr.com)!


End file.
